Two More Doom Sonnets September 1, 2009

Must give credit where credit is due. Mr. Sirius Fenris has inspired me to write some more doom sonnets. As yet another “dog poet.” (I truly wonder where this is going. I have some thoughts on this, which I will share at some point.)

#37

‘Midst the busy hubbub—folks, just being
folks, preoccupied with the trivial—
so tempting to get caught up seeing
just the shell, not the individual.
Sitting in a diner hungry, T.V.
blaring post-work “nooze,” I feel urgency
rising, for a meeting I need to be
at. So leave the food shack, my agency
commands, and go pick up something en route.
Yet even so, my judgments bilious
of others rise. Restrain myself! Would suit
to remember the doughboy previous
to this abstinence keeper of today,
and in these trauma times, can I really
predict who will fall by my side freely?

#38

I dream of future time where I can spread
out and take the space I sense demanded,
to go with ease from spinning storied thread
to teaching how to cook without candied
or sugared food products to eager kids
desirous of making foods delicious
with nature’s bounteous gifts—no lids
necessary. I’d lead most lubricious
rituals sometimes grave, many a hoot.
At presents, I’m not master of my time.
A dreadful symptom of this illness, fruit
of tech acceleration, sci-fi crime
’gainst humanity’s stewardship of self
while our home towns get put up on a shelf.